


Not To Be Told

by Angelic_Ascent



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, kiss day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Ascent/pseuds/Angelic_Ascent
Summary: In the corner of his eye he sees Akira glance to the group, and then back to him. “Well, can I ask you something then?”Akechi looks at him. Something sparkles in Akira's eyes behind his glasses.“May I have this dance?”





	Not To Be Told

“And now, as the winter season approaches, here are some tunes for you and your special someone…”

“Aw come on, guys,” Ryuji gripes over the radio, “can’t we turn that thing off? It’s nothing but that shit since it’s almost December.”

“The radio can be a valuable source of information, you know,” Morgana says, perched on Akira’s desk. 

“Oh, oh, I love this song, too! Keep this station on!” Ann chimes, putting down her phone.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s not like you have anyone like that either,” Ryuji says with a derisive snort.

To that, Ann only giggles, returning her attention to her phone. 

Akechi, with great willpower, holds in a sigh as his gaze returns to the window.

They were supposed -- _supposed_ \-- to have gone to Mementos today. Over an hour ago, actually, was when they had arrived at Leblanc. But one conversation topic had turned to the next, and now that rain had started everyone seemed content to wait it out.

Akechi, leaning against the wall, looks over the group. A couple of them engage in idle conversation, and although no one is more than a few meters away, they seem very quiet and far off.

Akechi’s eyes drift to Akira. He sits at the table, back to Akechi, scrolling along whatever on his phone. After a moment he locks the screen and flicks his wrist, sending it spinning and skimming across his fingertips. He runs his free hand through his hair and Akechi is glad that he's not the only one who feels like the attic is a bit too warm.

“Ooh, this is a great one too,” Ann says as a new song comes on the radio. “It's a great one to dance to.”

“Like I said, how would you know?” Ryuji asks, not bothering to look up from his manga.

“What, are you jealous?” Ann leans forward off the bed, a smirk playing on her lips. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Hell no.”

“Well then I'm sure someone here would be properly appreciative of a lesson.” Ann stands up, and without any foreword, turns and takes Makoto by the wrist, pulling her off the bed as well. “Do you know how to dance, Mako-chan?” 

“Uh,” Makoto stammers, looking around at the others in some kind of plea for help. “I mean, I never have before…”

“Simple couple dances are just about stepping to a rhythm, so it's easy,” Ann says. She slips an arm around Makoto’s waist, bringing her closer before taking a step back in time with the music. 

Yusuke looks up from his sketchbook, eagerly flipping to a new page. “Amazing… the fire in Ann’s eyes is truly something,” he says as he starts to quickly drag his pencil across the page.

Morgana jumps from the desk to the bed, watching Ann and Makoto with starry-eyed wonder. “A-Ann-dono, after you are finished with Makoto… may… may I…”

“Oh no you don't,” Ryuji says, slamming his manga onto the table with vigor as he stands up. “I call Ann after this.”

Morgana swings his tail hard. “You don't get a chance after what you just said!” 

“Why don't we all just take turns?” Haru says, standing up from the couch. “I'd like a chance with Makoto too, and Ann as well…”

“Sounds fun,” Ann says, turning Makoto and pulling her back before she has the chance to disagree. 

“Oi, Akira, move it,” Ryuji says, walking over to the table. Not bothering to look up from his phone, Akira stands and walks to the side of the room, next to Akechi, allowing Ryuji to push the table aside and give them more space.

“Is this how Phantom Thieves meetings always tend to go?” Akechi asks, a short, quiet laugh escaping him.

Akira shrugs, pocketing his phone. “Sometimes. But things would be boring if they were all business all the time anyway.”

Akechi turns his attention back to the group as Futaba shuts her laptop and swings her legs off the bed, walking over to Haru. “Hey, you're high class and all that. Teach me.” 

Haru giggles, before bowing elegantly, and taking Futaba’s hand. “May I have this dance, milady?” 

“Aw come on,” Ryuji says, watching the four girls dance around the room. “Now I have to wait for one of them to finish.”

Yusuke’s pencil strokes slow, before he lowers his sketchbook entirely. “If you really can't wait for a partner, I could help you with the basics. I took a dance class at school, after all.”

“Oh dude, no, that's just weird.”

“Yusuke!” Morgana says, jumping into his lap. “Please, teach me! Make me an expert!”

Akira laughs, something nearly like a giggle that he stifles with the back of his hand. In Akechi’s peripheral, he sees Yusuke nod firmly and pick Morgana up. He holds a paw up in his hand and places the other on his shoulder, before wrapping his other hand around his back.

After a moment, Akira meets Akechi’s gaze, adjusting his glasses as a small smirk plays on his face. “What? Is there something you want to ask?” 

Akechi shakes his head, turning his attention back to the others. “No.”

In the corner of his eye he sees Akira glance to the group, and then back to him. “Well, can I ask you something then?”

Akechi looks at him. Something sparkles in Akira's eyes behind his glasses.

“May I have this dance?”

Akechi stares at his outstretched hand.

It would look weird to refuse… surely.

He places his hand in Akira’s. 

With a surprising gentleness, Akira pulls him forward and wraps an arm around his waist. 

Akechi knows, of course, how to dance. …Not that he had ever done it, but for something simple as this, reading sufficed.

He steps in time with Akira and with the music, resting his free hand slowly on Akira’s shoulder. 

The music is slow but not too much so, and they turn and step around the room in repeated, even motions. Akechi watches Akira’s eyes, fixated on each space they move to. His tousled hair bounces a bit with each step, the warm light of the attic casting dozens of shadows and contours on each curl and strand. It reminds Akechi of how Akira moves in the metaverse; precise but wild, powerful and free.

His eyes shift to Akechi and Akechi glues his eyes downward.

“What, are you worried about taking a misstep?” Akira teases, voice low enough that it’s just between them.

“I’m quite coordinated, actually,” Akechi says, looking back up at him. “I’m surprised you have any knowledge about this. It doesn’t seem like you.”

Akira shrugs, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. But I’m a fast learner. Especially when I’m trying to impress someone.”

Akechi nearly does falter and step on Akira’s foot at that point.

But he doesn’t and they continue in an even rhythm. Akechi only realizes then that the song had changed -- so, too, had several of the other dancing situations, he notes, casting his gaze around the room. Yusuke was now with a somewhat reluctant-looking Ryuji, and Makoto with Haru. Everyone had changed partner by now, actually.

Akira’s grip on his waist only seems to grow tighter.

His eyes move back to Akira, who apparently hadn’t taken his eyes off Akechi this whole time. Their gazes meet and Akira shifts his attention elsewhere.

Akechi really wishes it wasn’t so hot in this damn attic.

The song picks up tempo and so do everyone’s steps. Ann brings Futaba to the middle of the floor, outstretching her arm and sending Futaba flying away from her, before pulling her back and leaning her in a neatly formed dip. Futaba giggles as Ann brings her back up.

“Show off,” Ryuji grumbles loudly. 

“As if you could do any better,” Ann teases, stepping back to the side with Futaba in hold.

“Maybe he couldn’t, but we could,” Akira says.

Akechi nearly freezes.

He would have entirely, probably, if Akira wasn’t already stepping them into the middle of the room. He moves them in a timed circle, and Akechi follows the motion with fluid ease -- even as Akira lifts his hand and spins him, not once, but twice. Then, he steps forward and dips Akechi down into his arm, leaning forward himself, close enough that strands of his hair tickled Akechi’s cheek.

Akechi’s face feels like it’s on fire as Akira holds him there. For god’s sake, how long was he going to --

He looks up to meet Akira’s gaze, but finds the other’s eyes to be closed, a calm on his face so contrasting to the pounding Akechi felt in his chest. It sets him at ease, somehow, and suddenly the rush to stand doesn’t seem so great; his eyes move down to Akira’s slightly parted lips, and if Akechi leaned forward just a few centimeters --

He hears a couple of the others clapping, somewhere distantly, and then Akira is standing straight and pulling him up as quickly as this had started.

“Always have to be the best, don’t you?” Ann says with a giggle.

Akechi sees the smile he flashes Ann and his heart jumps as Akira pulls him back to the side.

“Hey, kids!” Sojiro’s voice calls up. “I’m closing up early while the weather’s good! You should take the chance and get home!”

They collectively stop, and Ann pulls her phone out of her pocket. “I guess it’s too late to go to Mementos…”

“We’ll just go tomorrow,” Akira says. Ann looks at him as he speaks, but then continues to stare -- and only then does Akira hurriedly take his his hand out of Akechi’s and the other off of his waist, returning them to his pockets.

Ryuji sighs, the first to grab his bag off the floor and head down the stairs. “See ya, then.”

Yusuke goes next after giving brief thanks, followed by the girls sans Futaba, who is just about finished packing her laptop.

“Hey, Morgana,” Akira says as Akechi opens his briefcase, making sure all is in order. “Why don’t you go with Futaba?”

Akechi stops, glancing over at them.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to have some leftover sushi at your house?” Akira continues.

“I… think?” Futaba says, tilting her head. “Maybe…?”

Morgana’s eyes shift quickly from Futaba, to Akechi, and then back to Akira.

“Well, any chance of sushi is good enough for me!” he says, hopping onto Futaba’s shoulder. “Charge!”

Futaba giggles, pets his head, and heads down the stairs, giving Akira a wave. And Akechi’s not sure, but he swears Morgana actually shoots Akira a wink before disappearing around the corner.

Akechi turns his attention back to his suitcase, closing it with a click. “Well, then I’ll --”

“Hold on,” Akira says, stepping closer to him. “The song’s not done. And I don’t know much about dancing, but I know that’s not how you end it.”

Akechi looks at him as Akira takes a gentle hold of his wrists.

“And you’re not supposed to wear these,” he adds a bit quieter, sliding a single finger under one of Akechi’s gloves.

Akechi tenses.

The near silence in the room is heavy, palpable -- the rain has become nothing more than an occasional drop on the window. There’s a chime of the bell downstairs, signalling the final departure of the others.

Both of these sounds seem to have glass-shattering power.

Akechi only nudges his hand forward, letting Akira slip his fingers deeper into the glove, pulling it off with a touch that can only be called delicate.

The next one comes off the same way, except after Akira lets the gloves fall to his bed, he brings Akechi’s hand up to his mouth and presses a light kiss to the back of it.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, lips warm against Akechi’s bare skin.

Akechi places a hand on Akira’s shoulder.

“It would be my honor.”

Akira smiles -- something fulfilled and bright, in such contrast to his demeanor and someone known as the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Akechi’s face is hot as Akira slips his arm around his waist.

And again they move in time with the music, easy motions and perfectly synced steps. Each trip around seems to bring them closer together, chests brushing, and Akechi wonders if Akira can feel his heart hammering against his own.

“This is the last thing I expected to be doing with the leader of the Phantom Thieves,” Akechi says eventually.

“Well,” Akira says, shifting his hand so that his fingers slide in between Akechi’s, “we are thieves of heart, you know.”

He stops there, and Akechi tilts his head a bit. “And?”

His eyes move over to Akira -- who’s actually looking down, bangs obscuring his eyes. “Well, the leader can’t just sit by and have his heart stolen without taking the culprit’s in turn.”

Akechi blinks. “…Excuse me?”

At this, Akira just pushes his head forward, lightly bumping his forehead into Akechi’s temple. “Hey,” Akechi says, a small smile curving at his lips as Akira’s glasses go askew from the impact.

“For a detective, your observational skills are certainly lacking, sometimes.”

Akechi all but pouts. “I believe you’re talking to the only person who’s discerned your identities.”

Akira gives him a playful smirk as he steps them to the side. He quickly takes his hand off of Akechi’s waist, removes his glasses and sets them down on his desk, and then returns his arm to pull Akechi to him again. Closer than before.

The music slows and so do their steps. The sun has set entirely, and lowlight that once sufficed as bright now cloaks the room in just a dim glow.

Akira brings Akechi closer -- their chests and hips press together, their feet nearly touching with each slow step they take. Their arms relax, fingers still intertwined but more at their sides than anything else. Like an embrace.

Akechi’s eyes shift to him. There was no reason for all this. Was it some sort of play to get his trust? To catch him off-guard? Surely, that was the only reason to hold him back alone…

The warmth of the attic feels like it’s turning his brain to mush.

“Hey,” Akira says softly, breath tickling Akechi’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Staying behind here with me.”

Akechi averts his eyes, only to catch sight again of their intertwined fingers. “If you wanted dance practice, I’m sure anyone would have stayed back with you, you know.”

“Yeah… but there’s a reason I asked you.”

Akechi looks back at him. The word “why” stays stuck in his throat as he meets Akira’s gaze evenly -- in the dim, warm light, his eyes seem softer, a gray less like steel and more like rain clouds before the sun breaks through. Between their closeness and the lack of glasses, Akechi can see each tint and shade in them, their depth and their sparkle of emotion that seems like it’s threatening to burst out like a flood against a dam.

He doesn’t need to ask why. He doesn’t need to know. He doesn’t want to know.

His heart jumps in protest.

It roots Akechi in place, as still as the music becomes, even as -- especially as -- Akira leans forward, pressing his lips gently to Akechi’s.

It’s soft, softer than even the way Akira had taken off his gloves, and warmer than Akira’s body against him.

Slowly, Akira pulls back, not even a centimeter, so that his lips move against Akechi’s when he murmurs, “Akechi, I --”

The vibration that Akechi’s phone goes off with seems to hit the room with the force of earthquake. Akechi jolts, taking his hands off Akira and reaching into his pocket. 

He stares at the screen as his heart drops like lead. A number continues to call him -- not one in his contacts, because it wasn’t allowed to be, but one he knew too well.

He pockets the phone in an instant. “I have to go,” he says hurriedly, eyes on the floor as he grabs his gloves off the bed, slipping one on and grabbing his suitcase. “I -- see you.”

He walks to the stairs without looking back, but stops short as Akira grabs his still bare hand. “Wait.”

“I -- really can’t,” Akechi says, barely meeting his eyes.

“Just -- take care. And thanks.”

Akechi fully meets his gaze, now, and sees the entirety of concern and --

He tears his eyes away, phone still vibrating against him.

“You too,” he says, and pulls his hand from Akira’s, hurriedly putting his glove back on.

The moment he opens the café door, he takes his phone back out. It stops vibrating and instead displays the notification of the missed call.

He bites his tongue, the cold night air rushing against him and sending a shiver down his body. As he unlocks his phone and hits redial, a drop of rain pangs loudly against the window next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> kiss day fic!! i forgot about it until today but managed to get this out on time so i'm happy. i planned on finishing something else today but then this happened so hopefully! tomorrow! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed, please yell abt shuake with me at twitter (@kuremikazuchi) or tumblr (@kiryuujoshua)!


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